The Even Greater Game
by pinkypiepinkwriter
Summary: In which a very disconcerted Mycroft Holmes is forced to take his parents to the performance of "Les Miserables." A possible explanation of how he got stuck with the task at the end of "The Empty Hearse" and why Sherlock was so happy about it. (Potential spoilers for the first episode of S3).


**WARNING! SEASON THREE EPISODE 1 SPOILERS!**

Just some random thoughts on how Mycroft may have gotten stuck taking his and Sherlock's parents to _Les Miserables._ I just thought there had to be a reason why he couldn't force Sherlock to take them. He's powerful enough to do that, right?

Note: This doesn't follow the events of _The Empty Hearse_ to a T.

Anyway, without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

Cold, calculating, and blue eyes scanned a particular wall of a flat on Baker Street, taking in every single inch. Memorizing, analyzing, and drawing conclusions, the owner of the eyes seemed consumed by his actions.

In reality, he was beginning to get rather frustrated. Nothing, nothing at all had happened. Everything was just as it was supposed to be and all of his markers were exactly the same as the day before, continuing on with their mundane lives. He had gone through this process several times before, but the results were always the same. Mycroft was so adamant about a damn terror threat, but there was next to no evidence supporting the idea.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his cell.

"Speak of the devil and he shall ring," he muttered to no one in particular. "Afternoon, Mycroft."

"Hello, brother. You must be in a good mood, if you're willing to bother with pleasantries. Have you found something?"

"On the contrary, there has been no change in the markers' actions. Is that why you bothered to call? Or were you just feeling lon-"

"No," Mycroft was quick to cut him off. "Unfortunately, I have news."

"News? About what? Are you paranoid that yet another terrorist cell will spring up before year end?"

"No. Mummy's visiting. And so is father. They'll be here by Tuesday."

"They're coming to London?"

"Come now, Sherlock, don't be so daft."

"I wasn't. Just asking for clarification, that's all."

"Really? I fail to understand what is so complicated about the phrase: Mummy is visiting."

"It's a miracle! The great Mycroft Holmes doesn't understand something."

"I should be saying that about you. But, that's besides the point. I procured tickets for the to see a special performance of _Les Miserables_. I want you to go with them."

"Me? Why can't you take them?"

"Far too busy, Sherlock. Running the government isn't an easy task, you know."

"And yet you always find the time to scold me."

"Nevertheless, you're taking them to the theater. I'll have someone drop the tickets off."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"I guess there's only one way to settle this then."

"If you insist."

There was a sharp click on the other end, indicating that the caller had hung up. The owner of those piercing blue eyes grinned devilishly. He soon burst into cruel laughter.

"Oh, Mycroft. You don't know what you're getting into."

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

Mrs. Hudson was busying herself with the preparation of various pastries. Sherlock seemed to remember that he need to eat to survive these past few days and since he had been gone so long, she had no qualms about cooking for him, at least for a short while.

She had just finished a tray of palmiers, some of Sherlock's favorites, just as long as there wasn't too much sugar on them. He was an extremely picky eater and it had taken her several tries to get him to eat her baked treats. John, though he had his favorites, was so much easier to cook for. A good danish pastry was always sure to put a smile of his face.

Still in the preparation stages of a tray of cream horns, she took a moment to pause and wipe the flour off her face. It wasn't everyday that she did this much baking, but Sherlock never told her when he was expecting visitors. She figured that it was better to be safe than sorry. Just as she was about to return to task, there was a ring at the door.

At this hour, there were two possible options, either a client or Mycroft Holmes. Mrs. Hudson hadn't cared much for him when she first meet him, he was too...political. But, ever since Sherlock had come back from the dead, the boys had become closer. She enjoyed seeing them bond.

She was quick to open the door. Sure enough, it was Mycroft.

"He's upstairs, now. I'll be along with tea in a couple of minutes."

Mycroft thanked her and headed up towards his brother's present location. This meeting could go in two opposite directions, despite their newfound closeness. It was always difficult to tell with those two. Mrs. Hudson shook her head and got back to work.

Mycroft had reached the sitting room of his brother's flat. He wasn't in the least surprised to see that Sherlock had set up various board games. He remembered a few from their childhood, but some were new and unfamiliar. It was of no concern to him, he _always _beat Sherlock.

Sherlock, who had been sitting in a desk chair, facing the other direction, turned around with his hands clasped together. He had a confident gleam in his eyes.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. Sherlock was always so unnecessarily dramatic.

"Is that chair new, dear brother? It clashes horribly with the rest of the room."

"Forgive me, Mycroft. I forgot you had a degree in feng-shui."

"Mind you, I do."

Sherlock chuckled.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Why exactly do you find that amusing?"

"Oh, nothing. It was just something John said."

Of course. Those two and their blasted inside jokes. He was sure they came up with them to just bother him. Though he'd never give Sherlock the pleasure of knowing so, it was a technique that near always worked. Never mind, he had a clever rebuttal.

"Well, it seems like you're just prolonging your inevitable defeat. Shall we begin? Or would you like to hold on to your foolish hopes that you might actually defeat me a while longer?"

Sherlock's smirk disappeared, but he didn't look entirely disheartened.

"As you wish, Mycroft. Since you're so confident of a victory, I'll let you choose the method of battle."

"Now who's being overconfident?"

Mycroft had already scanned the entire room a couple of times. He had known exactly what he wanted to play from the moment he walked into the flat.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson trekked up the stairs with a tray of tea-time specific foods balanced precariously in one hand. The other clutched the railing tightly. She was definitely wasn't getting any younger.

When she finally made it up to the sitting room, she found the pair sitting around a board game, specifically one for children. She was and wasn't surprised at the same time.

"Here you go, boys. I'd recommend eating them while they're still hot."

They both nodded at her without breaking eye contact. She realized they were in the middle of the game. Seeing as her cooking for the day was complete, she figured she might as well watch them play.

It was really rather silly when she thought about. The fully grown men, sitting around the table playing a game like children. It was also sort of amazing, but then again, so was everything those two did, when they really put their minds to it.

They took turns putting each other down as they removed pieces. Not one of them had broken a sweat. They were both so calm and so focused. She suddenly realized that the game could go on forever.

But, it wouldn't. Either someone would lose or the boys would run out of pieces to remove. Personally, she hoped it was the former. If no one won, they'd just move to another game, and another, and another. They cycle really could go on forever, but Sherlock had been...

"Damn!"

Her silent pleas were answered. Mycroft had lost. Shaking her head, she left the room. That Sherlock; he was never one to disappoint.

Sherlock watched Mrs. Hudson leave out of the corner of his eye. It was no surprise to him or her, that he beat Mycroft. It was simply an estimated result. He had spent several days practicing and Mycroft had spent none since their childhood. He had outsmarted his brother.

Mycroft had surely considered the possibility of Mummy phoning Sherlock, but he did think that Sherlock would ever take the trouble to phone Mummy. Sherlock had called her, politely inquiring about her schedule, then set out preparing to beat Mycroft at his own game of surprises.

Sherlock was confident he could remove the heart from the _Operation _gameboard in his sleep, that was how much he'd practiced. Now, Mycroft was stuck taking their parents to an entire musical performance. It was almost too good to be true.

However, the true icing on the cake was the aghast look that had appeared on Mycroft's face for exactly 4.25 seconds. He too, was shocked that Sherlock beat him, but he was attempting to hide it behind an air of coolness.

"So, I guess it's settled then. You'll take them to the show."

Mycroft sighed. Sherlock had won, somehow. He was stuck.

"So be it. But, they'll still want to visit you."

He did his best to inflict some of his upcoming pain of his younger brother as the left the flat. Sherlock had still beat him. Nothing he could say or do would change that. It was childish game. A stupid way to settle things. It was Sherlock's fault that he won. Childish people are sure to win childish games. And, that's when it hit him. He froze and nearly dropped his cane. He should have noticed when Sherlock didn't look at all put down throughout the game. He usually hated it when Mycroft talked about their childhood. Mycroft had written it off early on as just mere change, but it was definitely something else.

Sherlock must have done the impossible. He had picked up the phone like a normal human being and phoned their parents. Mycroft stood outside the flat for 2.3 seconds slackjawed. He was quick to recover.

Bursting back into the flat, he yelled "I demand a rematch!"

The sound of Sherlock's laughter was heard again in the flat.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson smiled to herself. She recalled that John had named one of the cases he and Sherlock had gone on together _The Great Game_. Well, whatever it was, it had to have paled in comparison to this. The serial killer may have played a great game, but this, the rivalry between the two brothers was an even greater one.

* * *

Any thoughts, comments, or ideas would be much appreciated!


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